I choose a dress from the closet. It doesn’t matter which one I put on. Jordan purchased all of them, so he’ll like whatever I wear. I choose black because it feels like a dark night coming.
It’s low-cut, so I skip the bra and then decide to skip the panties as well because… what’s the point?
At five minutes to six I’m fastening the diamond necklace around my neck—yet another gift from Jordan—and slipping my aching feet into a pair of black five-inch heels.
When he walks into the apartment at exactly six o’clock, I’m sitting on the couch, legs crossed, leaning towards the door, holding a glass of wine.
He smiles at me because he knows what we’re doing too.
It’s a game. A very fun game.
And even though calling him ‘sir’ makes me want to roll my eyes and spit in his face, I do it because the payoff is all that matters. The expression on his face when I disappoint him is almost as delicious as the expression when I surprise him.
He’s not surprised tonight. He knew I’d be ready.
I stand as Jordan walks over to me. He takes my hands, leans in, and kisses me on the cheek. “You look nice,” he whispers into my ear.
“You as well,” I say, wanting very badly to check him out thoroughly, but not daring to take my eyes off his as he leans back.
“I hope you’re hungry,” he says. “We’re going to dinner first.”
“I’m famished,” I say, purring the words out. “And thank you for the shoes.”
He shrugs off the gratitude and walks over to the coat closet, chooses a black cape, and throws it over my shoulders with a gentlemanly flair. “Ready?” he asks, holding out his arm for me.
I nod. “Yes, sir. I’m ready.”
I don’t know what he’s got up his sleeve for tonight, but all this polite talk is my first clue that it will be challenging.
That’s OK with me.
I just love a challenge.
Chapter Three - Bric
My phone buzzes on the bedside table. I lift up my head, confused as to whether it’s morning or night, then decide I don’t really care and let it drop back onto the pillow.
The phone stops buzzing, goes to voicemail. But a few seconds later it buzzes again.
I make a grab for it, miss, and it slides off the table and drops to the floor.
“Fuck,” I grumble, reaching down to pick it up again. I read the screen. Jordan. “What?” I say into the phone.
“We’re coming up.”
“Who?” I ask, still confused.
“Are you… sleeping?” he asks.
“Who?” I say again, ignoring his question.
“Nadia and me,” he says. “We’re just finishing up dinner. Be up in ten.”
He ends the call before I can say anything else, so I just stare at it for a second, trying to figure out what the hell is happening.
I roll over, sighing heavily, and check the time. Seven-thirty.
I slept all goddamned day.
I close my eyes, not caring.
Pounding on my front door wakes me again. “Goddammit!” I yell. Can’t I have a fucking day to myself without people demanding attention?
But the pounding continues. Relentlessly. I swing my legs out of bed, walk out to the front room half naked, and pull the door open. “What the fuck?”
Jordan is standing there with the girl from last night. “Jesus Christ, man,” Jordan says, pushing past me. “Pull yourself together, Bric.”
He leaves Nadia at the door.
We stare at each other. Her eyes dip down to my bare chest, then slowly come back up to meet mine again.
I stand aside to let her in, and she enters. Silently. Just like last night. Bitch is playing with me, I can tell.
“Did you go to work today?” Jordan asks as he pours drinks into two cut-crystal glasses at my bar.
“I live at work, asshole.” I’m pissed off for a dozen reasons right now. He woke me up, twice. He’s drinking my best bottle of brandy, and he brought that game piece to my apartment. Not to mention that they are both dressed and I’m wearing—I look down at myself—pajama pants and nothing else. Add in the fact that I don’t like this girl, he’s brought her here for us to share, and I’m not in the mood for sex, let alone sharing sex, and yeah. Plenty of reasons for me to be pissed off.
“Get out,” I growl. I’m talking to Jordan but I’m looking at the girl.
She doesn’t even give me the courtesy of a scowl.
Bitch.
“No,” Jordan says. “I’ve brought Nadia back for a second chance. She’s sorry she wasn’t more accommodating last night and she’d like to try again.”
I stare at her. She stares back.
“Isn’t that right, Nadia?” Jordan asks.
“That’s right, Jordan,” she says. Her voice is… nice. A little deeper than I expected since she’s so young and her face is… kinda sweet. A little bit innocent.
Everything about her screams liar.
I realize I’m still holding the door open, so I close it and walk over to get my drink. My bare feet thud heavily across the floor. Nadia turns her body to watch me pass, and that pisses me off too. “Why did you bring her here?” I ask, taking my glass and sipping the drink. “Take her up to the apartment and I’ll be up later.”
“No,” Jordan says. Cool as can be. I have to admit, he’s a better player than I first thought. I thought I’d have to teach him to stand his ground and be more assertive. But he’s got no problem with aggression. We’re equals in this game and he knows it.
I like it, but hate it at the same time. I’m not used to playing with Jordan, even though we’ve been doing this for a while now. I’m used to Smith and Quin. I know them. And we always complemented each other’s personalities. They both had their assertive moments, but it was understood that I pretty much run the show. I’m the game master, if you will. The arbitrator. The one in control.
Jordan isn’t about to bow to my demands. Just one more thing to tick me off.
“I don’t feel like playing tonight, Jordan,” I say. It comes out as a sigh. “Maybe tomorrow.”
“Tonight,” Jordan says, walking over to Nadia. “Get on your knees, Nadia,” he says, just before kissing her mouth.
She closes her eyes and enjoys the kiss. But the moment Jordan pulls back, she’s dropping to her knees. Her head is turned up, eyes on his. Glued to him. Her hands go behind her back as Jordan walks around her and stands in front of me.
“You need a game, brother,” he says, then takes a sip of my good brandy. “And this is the perfect player for us. She’s willing, Bric. She’s got some fight in her, I’ve seen it. So whatever happened last night…”—he growls those words out as he reaches for Nadia’s hair and gives it a tug hard enough to make her head jerk—“won’t happen again. Will it, Nadia?”
He looks down at her as she looks up. “No, sir,” she says, just loud enough. With just the right amount of submission, but not too much. Because, as we both know, she’s not really submissive. He pulls her hair towards me, making her pivot in place, until I can see her face.
“He’s your master now too, Nadia. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” she replies, eyes darting away from his and landing on mine.
“You will obey both of us. Unconditionally. Do you understand?”